


Christmas Traditions

by DavidTennantsTrainers



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavidTennantsTrainers/pseuds/DavidTennantsTrainers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor starts a holiday tradition.<br/>A little birthday gift for my Christmas baby, SerenitysLady over on LiveJournal.  Although I've been writing Donna now for a bit, and I've got a little Ten stashed, unfinished, on my hard drive, I've never before written the two of them together.  Hope this works for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Traditions

**Christmas Traditions**

  
Donna Noble perched on the edge of the jump seat, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, watching warily as the Doctor bounced about the control room and made his third full circuit around the time rotor in as many minutes.  “Ok then, Spaceman,” she said with a dangerous note of impatience in her voice, “tell me again exactly why we had to make that stop, here and now?”

  
“I’m not sure exactly what you mean, Donna,” the Doctor replied, looking anywhere but at her.  “Colorado Springs is lovely in the winter-“

  
“But it’s not just Colorado Springs, is it, Time Boy?” she stated, leveling her gaze at him and wagging her finger in his direction as she stood and pursued him around the time rotor.  “It was 8:54 PM,” she declared, consulting the console dials that indicated local time outside the TARDIS doors, waving her hands about in circular motions as she continued.   “Yes, 8:54 PM,” she repeated as she sauntered around the control room, her pursuit of him relentless even as he picked up his pace, the circles she traced in the air growing larger with each subsequent word.  “On December 23, 1955.  In the offices of the Colorado Springs Gazette, Colorado Springs, Colorado, the United States of America, the Northern Hemisphere, Earth, the Solar System.”

  
The Doctor recognized the symptoms of an Oncoming Rant and stopped dead in his tracks.  “And. Your. Point?” he asked with an audible click of teeth, hoping against hope to derail her before she could really get going.  He should have known better.

  
“Well, that seems oddly precise, considering you told me you were setting the coordinates to random, AND you didn’t even have the good grace to pretend to be surprised when you opened the door and found yourself smack in the middle of the supply closet just outside the advertising department,” Donna said as she poked a remarkably pointy finger into his sternum- repeatedly.

  
The Doctor retreated exactly one half-step, just far enough to escape the next accusatory stab from his traveling companion and best mate.  “Donna,” he said, letting just a hint of a whinge colour his voice and rubbing the spot she’d viciously assaulted, “I’m just helping to spread a bit of holiday cheer, is all and-"

  
"Explain to me, in your trademark exhausting detail,” she drawled, one eyebrow quirked at just the right angle so that the Doctor had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, "how changing one digit in a newspaper advert for a “Talk to Santa” hotline for kiddies does that, exactly?  I mean, Christmas is bad enough on its own, but now there’s gonna be all these disappointed kids, expecting to talk to Santa and now when they call, what happens?”  Donna advanced upon him once again and the Doctor’s hand flew back to his chest to forestall her next attack.  "I read what that advert said- ‘Call me on my private phone and I’ll talk to you - personally- any time, day or night!”

  
“Donna —“

  
"Some poor sod,” she went on, barely pausing for breath and stepping forward so quickly that it was only by sheer force of will that he didn’t fall back.  “Some poor sod is gonna get all these wrong calls from all these kids expecting to talk to Santa about whether they’ve been good or bad and what they want for Christmas, and what are the odds that whoever happens to be on the receiving end is gonna be in a mood to talk to them?

  
“Donna—,” the Doctor tried again.

  
"And that poor typesetter!” she continued, working herself up into a fit of righteous indignation as the implications of his actions began to play out in her imagination.  "What if you get that poor man fired?  I mean, I saw the picture on his desk of his family.  He has a wife and three kids of his own!  Making a mistake like that could cost him his job, you know, and especially at Christm—“

  
“Donna!” the Doctor bellowed, startling her so much that she actually jumped back a tiny bit before she recovered her composure and glared at him angrily.

  
“Donna, it’s all right,” he said with just a suggestion of a smile, reaching out and laying his hands carefully on her shoulders.  When she didn’t squawk in alarm or brush him off immediately, he relaxed into a genuine grin.  “Trust me.  I promise you, all this works out.  It’s the start of a tradition.”

  
“Excuse me?” she replied, blinking in confusion.  “A typo begins a holiday tradition?”

  
“Oh, yeah!” he said excitedly, drawing out the exclamation so much that she had to give in to a tiny smirk. “It’s an established practice by your time.  You see,” he explained, plunging his hands deep into his pocket to draw out a well-worn newspaper clipping for her inspection, “that one digit change in a phone number, back in December of 1955, it rerouted all of those telephone calls from children eager to speak to Santa, away from a department store and instead, to a certain red telephone sitting on the desk of one Col. Harry Shoup of the Continental Air Defense Command.”  He took two steps back away from her before leaning against the railing, crossing his arms and ankles with a self-satisfied grin.

  
Donna considered his words before frowning in confusion.  “Continental Air Defense Command?” she asked.

  
“By your day, they were known as the U.S.-Canada North American Aerospace Defense Command, or NORAD for short,” the Doctor explained.

  
"You wanna run that last bit by me again, Sunshine?” she said suddenly, waving the bit of newspaper under his nose.  “You just sent all those children’s calls for Santa to a red phone on the desk of an American colonel, in 1955," she shouted angrily, "during the height of the Cold War?  I knew you were bonkers, but are you totally mental as well?”

  
“It’s fine, Donna, really,” he assured her with infuriating calm.  “Yes, the Colonel was initially taken aback, but when he realized that that first caller was a child and genuinely expected to talk to Santa, he went along with it.  So Col. Shoup, he talks to this little boy, you know, 'ho-ho-ho’s' and ‘Have you been a good boy?' and finally, he asks if he can speak to the boy’s mother.  And the mother, she gets on the line and says, 'You haven't seen today's paper? It’s there, in the Sears ad, a phone number to call Santa.”  Col. Shoup, he looks, and there it was, the number to his red phone, printed in the advert,” the Doctor said proudly.  "And the children, they kept calling, one after another, so he assigned a couple of airmen to answer the calls and act as Santa."

  
“No!” Donna  breathed, her jaw dropping, and the Doctor couldn’t suppress his delight.

  
“Yep,” he replied with a smile, popping the ‘p’ as he was wont to do.  "And the airmen on duty enjoyed it so much, they volunteered to man the phones when the next Christmas rolled around.”  He tilted his head to one side and smiled at her, giving her the eyes that reminded Donna forcibly of a puppy she’d seen as a little girl, doing its level best to win her over and come home with her.  It had worked then, too.

  
"Once word got out about what they were doing,” he continued as his smile crept into his voice, "the local radio stations started calling and the good Col. Shoup would give status reports on Santa's progress around the world throughout the night.  That happy accident just took on a life of its own and spread across the world," the Doctor said, spinning on his heel and throwing his arms wide, his face alight with the nearly-maniacal grin Donna loved.

  
"The program's continued to this day and since, oh,” he paused, scrunching up his face and scratching his neck as he did a few mental calculations, "about 1997, they've tracked his whereabouts across the world online. They even scramble a few jets to act as an honour escort while he's above the US and Canada.   Totally unnecessary, of course, as Santa actually has to slow down a bit so they can keep pace," he added with a shrug of his shoulders, "but it's the thought that counts, now, isn't it?"  
"Oh, come off it, Spaceman!" Donna said with a snort. "The way you're going on, the next thing you'll be telling me is Santa is real."

  
"Well, he is," the Doctor replied immediately, frowning in consternation.

  
"Oh, go on- pull the other one,” she scoffed, laughing until she saw the hurt expression flash cross his face.

  
"You wound me, Donna," he said quietly.  "I thought you believed."

  
"In Santa?" she asked, looking at him skeptically.

  
"In me," he replied. He stared at the controls beneath his hands and as he continued.  "I admit I might have, on the odd occasion, bent the truth a bit, but do you think I'd lie to you outright?”  He studiously checked the display Donna knew indicated the current level of water in the swimming pool before expertly tweaking the dial to add an additional 2.6 milliliters to its depth.

  
“No.  No, I thought you were joking," she countered, moving quickly to stand beside him.  She gently nudged the lever that controlled the hours of artificial sunlight in the arboretum, pushing the season ahead by two full solar days as she glanced up at him through her fringe and she went on. “You know- messing about, taking the mickey.  But you’re not?”

  
“No,” came his muted response as he finally ventured to look at her.

  
She pitted her disbelief against the pained look in his eyes but for form’s sake, she argued once more. "You can't be serious!,” she declared but wanting so much to believe him.  "I mean, really!”  She cast about in her memory, searching for any discrepancy to anchor her argument.

  
"You told me there's no Noddy," she declared as reasonably as possible, she felt, given the situation," but you expect me to believe in a man who visits every household that celebrates Christmas, all over the world, in a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, bringing presents to good little boys and girls the world over, and all in one night!?!” Throwing her hands in the air in exasperation, she swung back to him and cried, "He'd have to have a time machine…”  Her breath caught and as she turned to gawp at him, the Doctor stepped away from the console and thrust his hands deep in his pockets while scuffing his trainer against the grating below his feet.

  
“No, Donna, Santa Clause doesn’t drive a TARDIS,” he flatly stated. Donna opened her mouth to speak but just then, the Doctor scrunched up his face and bobbed his head from side to side, barreling on before she could respond.   “Well, not exactly.”

  
“Not. Exactly?” Donna managed to splutter.

  
“What I mean is, I did give Santa,” he paused, biting his lower lip for a moment. “Well, St. Nick... Well, Father Christmas—”

  
“Get to the point, you mad Martian,” Donna barked and the Doctor did a double-take at the menace in her eyes.

  
“As I was saying,” the Doctor hastened to explain, “when the population of Earth began to grow and the job got too big for one man to handle all in one night, as a favor, I might have incorporated a tiny smidge of Time Lord science into his sleigh.”  He held up his thumb and forefinger a hairs’ breadth apart, and unable to help himself, he grinned at his best mate.  “Just to expedite deliveries, you understand.”

  
“You’re serious,” Donna breathed, stumbling away from him.  The Doctor darted forward to catch her but she just managed to collapse onto the jump seat before he could reach her.  “And you’re saying you made the whole ‘Christmas-in-one-night’ thing possible by tinkering about and giving Santa Claus a souped-up sleigh?"

  
“Well, we go way back, Jeff and I,” the Doctor explained modestly.  He leaned in, peering at Donna to make sure she was all right as he continued.  “But there was this one year, I gave him some cause for alarm when he though I wasn’t going to make it back in time to help out, since I was off-planet sav—"

  
“Oi!” she cried, slapping his shoulder soundly, much to his surprise.  "Now I know you’re taking the piss, and after I almost bought your cock and bull story,” she declared, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him defiantly.  “Jeff?” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “Jeff?!?"

  
"Yeah, Jeff,” the Doctor said, rubbing his arm and giving her an odd look.  "You know; big fellow, white beard, a right jolly old elf?”

  
“You expect me to believe that Santa’s name is ‘Jeff’?” Donna asserted.

  
“Well, only to his friends,” the Doctor replied with a sniff as he straightened to his full height and adjusted his tie.

  
"Are you trying to tell me,” Donna exclaimed, waving her hand between them, "that Santa Claus is a Time Lord and that his real name is Jeff!?!

  
“Oh, of course not, Donna,” he said with an eye roll of his own, “Don't be so daft.”  He turned back to the controls as he continued.  "He's only half Time Lord. He's half human, on his mother's side."

  
“You’re serious,” she murmured from the jump seat.  He raised his eyes to hers and found Donna looking at him with open wonder.

  
“Yeah,” he replied, living dangerously and moving back to sit beside her.  He watched as the last of her doubts vanished in the face of his sincerity.

  
"I mean really, really serious,” she clarified, touching the spot on his arm she’d recently slapped in apology.

  
"Really, really,” he confirmed as he reached for her hand and gently interlaced their fingers.

  
Suddenly, the implications of his last announcement came clear.  Donna pursed her lips and tilted her head to regard him, then opened her mouth to speak before snapping her jaw shut.  The Doctor’s eyebrows rose as he waited for her to decide what to say.

  
“Half human? “ Donna finally snapped, scowling at him.  The Doctor shrugged, but before he could put his gob into overdrive, Donna laid a finger against his lips.  His eyes widened momentarily as he mentally prepared for her next assault and both his hearts stuttered in his chest when she smiled gently instead.  "We’ll leave that discussion for another day,” she decided, beaming when she felt his lips curve into a relieved smile beneath her fingertips.

  
“So you transformed Santa’s sleigh into a sports car,” she stated with a knowing wink, leaning her shoulder into his.  “What else have you done for the old boy?”

  
“You’d best be careful, speaking about him like that,” the Doctor teased.  “You might end up on the naughty list.”  A wicked grin crossed her face that suggested to the Doctor that perhaps there were other reasons Donna’s name might not appear on the nice list, but as she was looking at him expectantly, he didn't allow himself to speculate.

  
“Uhm, let me think,” he hummed, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand.  “A perception filter —"

  
"So that's why kids see Santa but adults never do!" Donna cried. "They expect to see him so they do!”  He was astounded.  Once she got over the shock of the entire situation, her acceptance of and adaptation to the concept was rapid and complete.  She rounded on him with a delighted grin.  "Where is it?"

  
"How'd you know how a perception filter works?" he asked, surprised at her own perception.

  
"Martha, of course," she replied.

  
"What?” he said, clearly not expecting that response.

  
"Martha has one, on her TARDIS key,” she said.  "She told me all about it, said I should get one from you, too.  It's dead useful, she said, sneaking in to work when she's late getting back from lunch with Tom."

  
“And when did you talk to Martha?" he asked hesitantly.

  
"Universal roaming, remember?” Donna replied, reaching into her pocket and brandishing her phone at him.  “I talk to Martha at least once a week, just to check in with her and keep up with the news on Earth."  She gave him a cheeky smile as she continued.  "I don’t want there to be some big, gaping hole in my cultural knowledge when we do pop back home for a visit and I make some stupid blunder in conversation, embarrassing myself because I don’t know who the current Prime Minister is or who won the last World Cup.”

  
"Ah," he mused, pulling at his ear and nodding in agreement. "Makes sense."

  
"So where is it, then?" Donna persisted, elbowing him in the ribs.

  
"What?" he repeated, missing her train of thought. "Oh, right, the perception filter! It's in the bell on his cap. He's a bit vain about losing his hair,” he confided, unconsciously scratching his head and ruffling his own thick mop, "so he's never without it."

  
"In a bell?" Donna puzzled. "Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose of a Time Lordly stealth device if you can hear him ringing all over the place?" She made a vaguely flouncing movement with her hands as she thought about it.

  
"No, that's the beauty of it, don't you see?" the Doctor enthused.

   
"Not if he's wearing a perception filter," Donna muttered under her breath.  The Doctor elected to continue as if he hadn't heard her.

  
"You can hear him but not see him!" he continued as if it were the most obvious thing in the Universe. "It's brilliant, isn't it?  It plants that lingering doubt, that uncertainty in the back of your mind…Did I or didn’t I hear something?” he whispered conspiratorially, waggling his eyebrows.  He turned towards her slightly and leaned on the railing behind him with a satisfied air. "It all adds to the mystique."

  
"And that was your idea, wasn't it?" Donna said knowingly.

  
"Of course it was," the Doctor replied, nonplussed.  "I said it was brilliant, didn't I?"

  
"Of course," she agreed indulgently.  She pondered for a moment before adding speculatively, "And I imagine he uses some sort of portable transdimensional unit on the chimneys so that they're temporarily bigger on the inside?"

  
"Oh, Donna Noble, you're brilliant, you are!" he gushed, forgetting himself for a moment and pulling her into an affectionate hug.  "Gorgeously, thoroughly brilliant!"

  
She blushed in his arms and pushed away from him gently but not leaving his embrace.  "What about the reindeer and all that?” she aded, her cheeks still glowing.  "That's more of your doing, I suppose?"

  
"No those are real,” he admitted, leaving his arm draped around her shoulder. "Original equipment, if you will. After all, Jeff's got a few tricks of his own."

  
"So he does get to take some credit, then,” she teased.

  
"Well, he is cheating bit,” he hastened to add.  “They're alien, of course."

  
“Of course,” she repeated, shaking her head at the impossibility of the entire conversation.  She laughed again, then sobered slightly.  "Why are you doing this?” she wanted to know.  “Telling me all this?  You’ve got something you’re not telling me.”  She bowed her head slightly and her hair fell from behind her ear, hiding her eyes.  "What are you playing at?"

  
He reached out to tuck her hair back away from her face and gently cupped her cheek.  "I’m just trying to prove to you that Christmas can be a lovely time of year when it’s spent making other people happy, especially friends and loved ones,” he blurted without thinking.  He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat as he replayed his words in his head and slowly pulled his hand away but didn’t move from her side.

  
“Thank you,” she whispered, biting her lip to keep from grinning like a loon and looking down at where his hand had fallen into his lap.  She reached for it and her smile broke free when he responded by immediately clasping her hand and drawing her closer again.  He tucked her head under his chin and hugged her tightly with what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief.  After a few happy moments, he gently turned her so that they were again face to face.

  
"Look, Donna," he whispered, gently guiding her face upwards. "Mistletoe."

  
"Oh, now you'll tell me THAT'S all your doing, too, I suppose,” she laughed, batting at his chest playfully and cocking her eyebrow at him with another smirk.

  
“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ yet again, his eyes sparkling with glee.  “There are several theories about how mistletoe became associated with Christmas.  Historically, mistletoe was considered a supernatural, healing plant, as it stayed green even in the depths of winter," he pontificated, much to her amusement.  He just couldn’t help himself telling you everything, once he got going.  
  
“It was used in marriage ceremonies and was placed under the beds of newlyweds as a good luck charm.  No one really knows how it started, but the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe began in England, where young men would meet young ladies under the mistletoe for this reason and would pick a berry from the bush after each kiss."  It was at that precise moment that Donna decided that the Doctor's mysterious respiratory bypass he was so proud of probably got more of a workout when he was in full professorial mode than at any time he was running for his life.  
  
"Once the berries were all gone," he continued, "the kissing would stop, as it was bad luck to continue.  Maybe we should pop back in history and see if we can’t suss out how the tradition started?” he said as sudden inspiration struck.  At that point, he must have noticed Donna was all but laughing at him and he grinned at her almost bashfully.

  
“But that one there?  That one is all the TARDIS' doing,” he confessed with an upward jerk of his chin.  The Doctor sniffed and looked away before appearing to come to some sort of internal conclusion.  Turning back to her decisively, he reached for Donna and pulled her close, even as she decided to move back into his arms.

  
“It is important to remember,” he drawled, moving to stroke her face again as his voice dropped into a low rumble, "during that period a kiss was taken very seriously - it was usually seen as a promise of marriage.”  He felt a slight tremor and wondered if it originated with him or with the woman in his arms.

  
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not in that period, then” she retorted breathlessly.  “Otherwise, I’d either have had to let you die or you’d have been honor-bound to marry me after that kiss at Eddison Manor."

  
He quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering if she had any notion of the number of times and ways she’d saved his life, both before and since then.  “Happy Christmas, Donna,” he finally whispered, closing his eyes as he brushed her lips gently with his own.  He fought against the urge to flinch in case she was preparing to retaliate with a slap and opened his eyes to find her smiling back at him.

  
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, kissing him again. “Happy Christmas, Spaceman."


End file.
